new rule: you're not allowed near a child until you've raised a pet for life.

My cat's dying. I've known it for years. Kidney failure. She's the happiest cat on this ugly wonderful planet.

I had a neighor up north, a wonderful smart kid who was amazingly rounded in some aspects and in denial about some of the more important aspects. I saw her go through abusive boyfriends and girlfriends. I fixed her roof, I mowed her yard and she mowed mine. She loved my dog, and I saw her cycle through many dogs of her own.

She was taking in dogs on the idea one would fit for long-term residency. A foster parent. I could NOT figure that out. You do or you don't is how I was raised. Either hand over the keys to the porsche or piss off. But I was also raised in a home where your loved ones are expendable.

So she, my neighbor, took in all these strays and sent them off as bad matches. Until this Marmaduke bastard. Whoa, I loved him right on the spot. She did, too. He knew me, he knew my home as his, he was pals with my own dog. It wasn't forced or even learned, it was spontaneous. He exuded good will and love.

I'd wake up and go outside for the paper and he'd be sprawled out on my lawn. He was that goddamned cool.

When I decided to go back to brick & mortar work, I figured my dog could use a companion to get through the hours when I was suddenly away. I chose a cat, because I had the most loving and tolerant dog on the marble. I asked this same neighbor, quietly, "Hey if you know of a cat that really needs a home, I'm going to accept a job and I think my dog could use a companion."

The very next day, I came home and she'd put a beast in my house along with 200 pounds of food. (we had a cool neighborhood- she had my keys, I had hers, we had keys for many of the neighbors because we trusted each other and looked out for the neighborhood).This cat came with a note on the food: "Her name is Mica or Meka or something. It's pronounced Mee kuh."

She was morbidly obese. Her body was a bloated balloon, and she slid across my wooden floors more than walked. Tor didn't give a shit. I didn't give a single shit, I was so unimpressed. She didn't associate with anybody. She'd try to hide under my kickass 1950s modular couch, but couldn't squeeze under, so I pulled the couch away from the wall in order for her to live behind it.

She and Tor got along as expected. He didn't openly give a shit, but she took to him in a big way. He'd bust her ass for any rule infraction. Say I left my dinner plate out and fell to sleep. Tor would wake me up because Mica was licking the plate. BROKEN RULE he new and upheld. Amazing.

Over the course of 2-3 years, I weened Mica off of food and got her weight down to 'normal'. As she slowly dropped weight, she became more gregarious and playful. This is a cat that LIVES to play with string, but when I first got her all she knew was food.

She and Tor were inseparable. He didn't openly give a shhit, but he reaaly dug hangin out with her. When Tor collapsed and died in my arms, I was pretty torn up. He was my best-ever friend, period. Meka fell apart. Her most outward reaction was licking the hair off her body. She licked herself almost entirely bald. Anywhere her neck and tongue could reach, BALD.

It was at that point I realized I'd been an ok dad for her, but never accepted her as I had Tor. Tor was and is a son, a dad, a mentor, a mensch. He looked up to me while teaching me some of the most important 'life lessons" I'll ever encounter.

I'd taken Meka in, restored her health, yet never given her my companionship or friendship. As promised, I'd only offered her my dog. When I realized that, I changed it all. She was now as much a friend as Tor had ever been, and she's paid back all my love tenfold. Tor was never "a dog", just as Meka is far more than "a cat".

And she stopped licking herself to death. Now she's about twenty, drinking half a gallon a day, and one of her favorite words is "wannaplaystring?"

When i moved towns last year, I immediately noticed a change in her. It was no longer a death desert scenario. She took to sleeping on the window sil, looking out at crickets or moths or lizards or javalinas. When it's cooler outside than inside, that's her spot. So I beefed up the window screen and made a cushion specifically for her spot on the sil. It's been a home run, and she looks at me from the sil and says 'thank you' daily. She recognizes I made that spot for her, just as Tor recognized so many things I did for him.

Only a moron can't recognize intelligence.

These are pets? Most assholes would say dogs and cats are worthless. "If you love a pet you're a pussy."

In reality, these are the same assfucks who should never be allowed near children.

"you need a license to own a dog, but any asshole can have a kid" Parenthood, 1989.

I bought my sister a T-shirt from the charity 'Save a Greek Stray': "DOGS - Cos People Suck" , which just about sums it up for me. Cats have got people beat too. They're on loan to us - they love unconditionally, they don't judge. They're too good for us by far. At most they just ask for our attention for a few minutes a day. When they die, it's a bereavement. I'm not a dog or cat person - I don't see why we have to be. I've kept both. People sneer when the bereaved talk about their four legged friends going "Over the rainbow bridge" - but they don't really get it. I'll take a comforting euphemism every time, ta. I held my sister's dog while she was being euthanised ( my sister was a mess in an adjoining room ) and I couldn't just say nothing. I told her she was going over the rainbow bridge to be with her sister. It got me through it, anyway.

I've had to do it a few times now. And the truth is there has been guilt with me. There have been times when I could have made more of an effort to play more stimulating games. When instead I've just watched TV when I could have given more of my time. When I was at that moment of goodbye and she looked at me so trusting - there was guilt. That's partly why when people lose a 'pet' they say, "Never again. I won't put myself through that again." We know we're not good enough for them.

I've had times in my life when I've been lower than a snake's belly and the thought that my cat or dog needs me has kept me going. They say cats don't get attached or don't 'feel' but that's bollocks. I had one cat who was very independent - she came to you only on her terms and I gave up trying to solicit her attention in public because I'd always end up rebuffed and feeling like an idiot. But I remember being alone and having a mammoth pity party one time, crying. She came over and rubbed her head all over mine and licked my hands. She knew.

Sometimes they find you. I had a cat for a few months, not so long ago. He was not a pretty cat - and unpretty cats are my favourite. He was white with small, albino type eyes and a broad, bashed-in very prominent nose. He looked for all the world like Steve Martin. He came tripping across my back garden one summer's evening mewing hysterically. He wanted food and he loved affection. He had absolutely no fear. I think he'd seen my cats playing and thought, "I'll chance my arm here." There is a block of flats behind my house and I think someone left him behind when they exited the flat. He was all white and pink and very young but at the same time he looked like he'd been in the wars. He seemed right at home - then he died very suddenly. Because he'd been an orphan it had made him more loveable. It really made me ill to lose him. If there's such a thing as an afterlife, there are certain relatives and former friends I wouldn't exactly rush to greet. I know I'd get more joy from being reunited with Steve Martin and his step brothers and sisters.

I don't have anything to add, except i bought toys and leashes and had them everywhere, telling me the obvious: Go and play!

The very first photo I have of Tor is his tearing my new leather gloves. I was so proud of my new driving gloves. It gets cold in SLC in the winter. He put a tooth through one of them right off the bat. Instead of getting angry, I took a photo of his happy face and my torn glove and agreed: I like his attitude far more than those worthless gloves.

Right now, I've got two strings wound up for Mica. I've got two toys on the floor. She's three feet away half-asleep and half staring at me.

Tor used to sleep with me, always on my right. The first time I invited hm up on the bed was in winter. I turned the heat off at night and used a heating blanket. I had no idea he was uncomfortably cold. I invited him up between the sheets with me and we had a call-and-response session of half an hour. A dog moans, yeah? "Mmm" Uh, he did more with M than any dog who wrote a thesis on King Lear. I'd say something using only M and he'd perfectly mimic it, in length and pitch.

He absolutely knew we were doing a call and response. I was in fucking awe. Gobsmacked.

Anyway, Mica took up sleeping on my left, in the crook of my knee. Tor was a solid block to my right. I couldn't move, I was fucking molded in each night! I couldn't dare move at risk of smothering them. It was horrid, and I miss it dearly.

A few years back, after Tor died, I bagged up many of his toys, tried to give them away. Our toys. One was a frog he stole from a neighbor. I was dating her. She had a black Lab bitch who was dying of cancer, a cool cool dog. He ran into their house the first time we met, looked over her toys, and took the purple frog.

She had a large woven basket in her living room next to the TV. It was filled with toys. Wow, I fell for her right then. It didn't hurt that her ass was exquisite. I'm talking about my gf, you psychos.

My niece had never experienced death before Tor. She'd come for a visit and give Tor a kiss on the forehead and kiss mica on the nose. I don't believe in the God bullshit, so it's always a bit more difficult explaining reality to those raised within the rainbow. "He died" "Where is he now?" "He's gone, his life is over." "Is he ever coming back?" Me, choking back tears, "No." She got it. She climbed up and hugged me and kissed me and said, "he still loves you."

Here's one of the last shots I have of Tor. When younger, we'd go to the park and he'd race across the creek. I'd throw two or three tennis balls, a couple rope frisbees, and a nerf football right to his mouth. No bounces. He'd catch and drop them waiting for the next, then pick them all up, run back, and drop them at my feet.

Passersby were astounded. Toddlers would run up and say, "can I play?" "Does she bite?" "Show me how".

in this shot, he's old and dying, but still can handle two. He loved tennis balls and fake bones. This bone has a knotted rope running thru it. Damn, hours of fun we had with that alone.

tor_toys.jpg

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Absolutely this: Animals, because people suck. I have 4 dogs 1 cat and a snake. I have been loved by many dogs & cats in my life and loved them back with every thing I had. Everyone of them left a part of themselves in my heart but they took a piece of me. Life is not worth living without them.

Dmac, my heart goes out to you. Anyone who says another human is a wimp or a wuss for having a pet is a low form of humanity. I'm socially anxious and would rather spend time with a cat or a dog then most people. One of my cats, beater, died over a year ago and to say I miss him is a massive understatement. The hours we spent together are some of the happiest times imaginable. My other cat, lenny, spent 3 days in his bed(just a box with a blanket in it) after beater died and wouldn't even nibble at a tempation's treats he so adores. He also walks around the house at night now and meows, something he never did before. We are both morning his passing in our own way, but thankfully have many wonderful memories to help us heal. I hope you find peace.

I blew out my flip flop, Stepped on a pop top,Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.

I couldn't see the picture of Tor the first time I read the post. Perhaps I used a different browser. He has grey muzzle and 'eyebrow' markings in that shot, so at least he was able to reach old age. He looks like what I'd call a proper dog. Like the canine version of a 'man's man'. If that makes sense. I'm sorry about Meka - I don't know what to say, except that it really sucks. At least you were able to get her more agile and having fun, chasing string. Definitely improved her quality of life - that's an achievement.

dd1 that's a menagerie you've got. I wish I had the outdoor space...my garden is quite small. I must confesss I don't understand the snake thing! Mind you there's a guy on 'youtube' who keeps lizards and one of them comes when he calls him. I wonder whether it's just for food, or whether they really feel affection? I thought they were cold blooded literally and figuratively.

Billy - have you thought about getting another cat? It might be good therapy for Lenny. Could understand if you don't want to commit again though.

I loved the story about Mica and Tor. It was such a heartwarming story of love and devotion. I'm glad you and Meka had each other when Tor passed away, as hard as it was on both of you. I'm also very sad about Mica being ill. Rest assured that whenever she goes, Tor is waiting on her and they will be together again.

I have two pink children and two furry children. My son rescued my sweet Layla as a puppy. I was unemployed at this time and couldn't find work. Because she was a puppy, she demanded a lot of my time and I swear she kept me from going off the deep end, seriously.

as a kid, I raised chickens, cattle, horses, goats, ducks, geese, more chickens, pigeons. All were considered meat, except horses. The pigs were, by far, the smartest of the lot. We raised reds and china whites. Fuck the China Whites. The reds were so damned smart and funny. They used to play pranks on the goat, such as the old plank joke: one would lay down behind the goat, and the other would force the goat to back up into the pranking pig, stumble, and fall down.It still slays on the Borscht Belt, but it was a predictable routine by the smarter pigs.

I tell ya what, killing and eating the turkey was a0-ok. we had it for T-Day or xmas. THE BEST! It was AMAXINGLY tasty. Worth it. But missing the turkey? no. Even the goat hated that stupid fuck.

i got fed up with the 'farm life' when it came time to slaughter the cow and pigs. I kinda walked away from it, knowing their intelligence and inherent passive kindness. That's not meat.

I failed as a vegitarian, much less vegan. I've tried both while working in the food industry, where those options were right in front of my brain and tummy. I still eat chicken and turkey and ostrich, even pork and beef.

I'm terribly sorry for your loss DMac. Truly beautiful tribute to your Tor. My choc lab Jen was 14. Brain cancer with seizures. I refused to let her die with strangers and got on the floor, cradled her in my arms and wept until she was at peace. She's still with us in her fav blanket surrounded by her beloved toys...even have a paw printed stone for her. Kiz (my first cat, Momma cat left her, we found her) is now ten and boxes the living shit out of Sophie, our five year old Dobie. I wanted a gun after Jen passed...Hubby said I'd shoot his ass in his sleep. So we waited a few years and got our Sophie.

You know those horrible 'feed the children' ads that last forever? I have no qualms watching it. But you put up an abused animal ad and I have to turn it off. Ugly out of me I know but I've always turned to my animals--no, my pookie heads as I call them--for that unconditional love that only they can give.

There's something so incredibly cool about that special love of your pet. Not many humans are that fucking cool.

His name when I first took him for a walk was Tar. I hated the name. On our second outing, the first time he was 'mine', we went to a mountaintop. I christened him Tor, from the olde english for rocky escarpment or mountain top. i knew the word from a Yes lp, Tormato.

When tor was feeling ill, I got on the floor with him and he collapsed in my arms. I told him to let go. he was about 20.

He died on the bed, staring into my eyes. It was awful, but it was also so personally beautiful. He trusted me and died with me.

He'd given me so much love and life, i had to be there for him to let go. Had I not been there when he died, I'd rightfully be a disgrace.

We were lucky to have Jen for 11 of those 14 years. My out laws were not terribly good to her and kept her in a fenced in pen that would shock her. Summer heat so bad she'd dig to China to lay in cool earth. Felt horrible for her so one day hubby told them we were taking her home. Her first 3 years of life was spent in a freakin' jail, mainly outside. Found out real quick if I put her outside to go anywhere she continually barked until I returned. She house trained us easily.

Until the day came when there was a sale on ground chuck, so I make this massive 5 lb. meat loaf. Had to pick up the girls from school so I pushed that meat loaf to the back of the stove to cool while I was gone. Come home to the pan on the floor, foil on the floor, bits of meat and grease next to my engorged, moaning dog on the floor. I mean she laid there for 3 hours just moaning. I was waiting for which end it was going to explode and thankfully it was taken care of outside by the fifth hour.

Just couldn't be mad at her...my fault- I left it where she could paw it to her. We had bologna and soup that night. She didn't eat again for two days. Ha!

I had a Rhodesian Ridgeback bitch, she was sooo damned incredible. Protective as hell, but immediately knew my family and friends were okay. Common sense, that innate dog ability to detect assholes, losers, users, etc.

I came home one night and the kitchen floor looked like a beach party in progress. Sand all over. but it wasn't sand. Roadie had eaten two fresh bags of brown sugar and two loaves of bread, and the vomited kitchen beach party was the result.

Something I woke up just this morning wondering about is 'pretty' and how we use the term with our animal companions. Mica could be the deformed result of a bizarre wallpapering disaster and she'd still be gorgeous to me. i call her pretty all the time, just as i call my roommate's cat gorgeous. They both are, but it's internal, who they are. I don't call assholes pretty, do you? "pretty' is a term of affection based on who they are.

it would be incredible if we could display that affection openly to other humans. Instead, we mock each other by appearances and/or behaviors nobody has control over. Pathetic.

Before the age of about 13, i regret participating in such gang bullying. After I woke up, I dropped my 'friend set' and chose new friends individually, by who they are. Some remain friends to this day- I just bent the ear of one for an hour. True friend since 7th grade, jr high.

Roadie, Mica, Tor, and I ALL share bullshit detectors. i believe they were born with theirs and mine came 13 years too goddamned late.

No. That's absolute bullshit. It took me that long to grow some balls and drop those losers and that moronic group mentality, to become an early incarnation of me. A batch of cookie cutter morons afraid of being cookies? Already baked.

"but they took a piece of me"? How? they didn't lie or steal from you, they weren't a worthless bitch wife or horrible sadist parents. How the hell do you come to such a wankfest bullshit conclusion?

Their leaving you was a natural life process, not a betrayal. They gave more than you're willing to admit. That's your lie, not theirs'.

I see Tor for what he added to my life, how he taught me to be a better friend. Everything is how we had common time together, and how we utilized it. Tor took NOTHING from me, he always gave.

A common grief with pets is the loss is insurmountable, "my best friend". That's wonderful horse hockey pucks. Grow a new set of nads. Take in an elderly dog in need of a home. Be the provider while you can. That dog will love you unconditionally, too. And die in a hopefully happy and loving home with people EXPECTING it.

Roadie, what a gorgeous gentle giant! I prefer big dogs to ankle biters. So true about the bullshit detector. Sophie is stigmatized just for being a Doberman. I've damn near loved the Dobie right out of her, or at least I thought. Her natural instinct is extreme loyalty and protection and a future neighbor found out as he walked up my driveway while we were on the front deck reading. She tore off that deck and got half way to him, every hair straight up and in hindsight I was in total awe of her stance, those ears up, her chest out and just staring at the intruder. We did take the time to train her and she stayed right where I told her to, and instructed the neighbor not to move. Never been so scared she would tear into someone yet so in awe of her nature. Turns out she was right...new neighbor is an utter asshole. She doesn't like my sister in law either. Haha!

Jen (and now Sophie) did the same thing with Kiz as Tor did with Mica. Soon as my voice inflects scorn at Kiz, there was Jen/Sophie on the spot to help with the chastising. Growing up I had a cockapoo named Pepper who had a litter and one was black and white and we named him Snoopy. (early 70's oh yeah!) Something was really wrong with Snoop, his head cocked to one side and shook all the time. Vet said he was almost deaf and partially blind. We were allowed to keep him as Mom didn't have the heart to put him down just for not being perfect. After Pepper passed away we ended up moving on the other side of town in a new development. Talk about crickets. Snoopy ran away and I was frantically searching for him on my 10 speed. Few days later while in school I got called to the office--all the kids ooooohs and aaaahs and 'you're busted' did not help. Seems Snoopy made his way back to our old house and the neighbor called the school to contact me. How the hell he did it, going past the interstate, from BFE and traveling about seven miles is beyond me. I got him home and damn if he didn't do it again...made his way back to the old house.

He wasn't pretty to look at. His tongue slide out the side of his mouth as his head shook the slobber all over the place...he was beautiful to me. Ah but his heart...we had buried Pepper and he wanted her with him. Amazing. Sad to say the last time he took off I never found him. I'd like to think he made his way to that proverbial farm unwanted animals are dumped at when owners don't want them anymore.

This is barely the third anniversary of Tor's death, when he got up and walked to me, then collapsed in my arms.

I let my cat know Tor was dead, she was so completely bonded to him. She suffered massive withdrawal, and licked most of the hairs off her body as a direct reaction. I did manage to step in and redirect her focus towards our own friendship, which continues to flourish. It's amazing how we call such loss something as lame as "object loss", when I and my cat know Tor was not an object.

The third anniversary of Tor's death was a couple days back (Aug 9). Tonight I kinda saved three dogs. All of them out of the yard and heading Downtown. In the street. Spread blocks apart, I happened acrosss three, all with the same address on their tags.

THANK YOU FOR USING LICENSES AND TAGS ON YOUR PETS!!!!

A MASSIVE Great Dane mix with a head the size of my torso. A mid-size mix I can't begin to describe. And a boxer mix with tons of slobber and affection. I found all three, knocked on a couple doors to find the address on the tags, and locked them on the porch by the front door.

The collars weren't tight enough on two of the three (came off in my hands), but the tags were accurate. I found the address, and knocked on three doors. Nobody answered, I locked them into an area by the front door, and then the neighbor/owner came from the back yard, where he'd been searching for them. Uh, that back yard is a hillside.

"I just found your dogs and put them by the front door (a fenced and secure area)"

"THANK GOD! I was just out back looking for them!"

Very cool dogs, very friendly, they came to me once I befriended the first, I absolutely love Great Danes and those mixes. Their heads alone are the size of a small building, but they're often so easy-going and loving, with no anger or animosity. Most would never attempt to go after a Great Dane loose on the street, but he came to me. Most (99.9%) animals just know I'm a friend and not a threat.

If you were around a couple years back, I showed a pic of Tor on the lawn, with my neighbor's Great Dane in the background. That dog was our buddy, and would often wander over and hang out with Tor and me. In the photo, he looks bigger than Tor, despite being a dozen feet in the background.

Yeah, I'm rambling, but I love pets.

One FANTASTIC story about my neighbor's Great Dane: I used to make bread, and would put the finished bread on my window sill to cool. The proverbial apple pie at the window. He would grab a loaf, and take it back home and present it to my neighbor as a present. Seriously.

I had the coolest damned neighbors, and their 'pets' were instant pals with me and my own. That's a true neighborhood.

I miss Tor dearly, but his love changed me in a way which is apparent in how I chose to interact with everything in my life.

Since i've been ranting, over the years on this very thread, about how 'pets' can best us on how to treat each other, I give another Yes song... this time about whales, whose mentality is deemed by scientists to be far higher than stupid shits like us.When this album came out (1978ish?) nobody bought it. I did a couple yeas later for 25 cents.

Yes are a vegetarian band, which few know or comprehend. Unfortunately, yES also kicks absolute ass as a band. Well, at least up to, say, Tormato.